


as through a mirror dimly

by la_victorienne



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-19
Updated: 2009-01-19
Packaged: 2018-10-16 00:52:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10560622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/la_victorienne/pseuds/la_victorienne
Summary: jack and ianto wake to a snow day.





	

It feels good, to be honest, waking up with snow falling softly all around and the knowledge that he doesn’t have to go in today resting with him. Barring the world ending or overt alien invasion, Ianto has a day off, and he’s not giving it up.

He pads into his little kitchen, turns on the coffee maker, watches the snow continue to fall as it bubbles and gurgles quietly. The tile is cool against his bare feet, and when he brings two cups of coffee back to the bedroom he sets them down and slides under the comforter, pressing his toes to Jack’s calves in an effort to warm them. Jack starts, yelping, and Ianto smiles, all halo and wings.

“I brought you coffee,” he says by way of apology. Jack regards the boyish face incredulously, but accepts the warm white mug and the kiss that accompanies it. Ianto smiles contentedly and sips his own coffee in silence – for there is nothing to say.

Jack watches him – dawn is breaking over Ianto’s pale face, easy and beautiful, and the peace there is startling. Yes, it’s their day off – but doesn’t he know that nothing cooperates in Cardiff? Every time they try to relax something new happens? Ianto just looks around contentedly and sips from his mug, and Jack suddenly can’t bring himself to care about what might happen, only what is happening.

Here he is, in Ianto’s spotless flat, naked beneath warm covers and fully rested for the first time in longer than he can remember, with clean white snow falling from a cool grey sky, covering the world with silence. What is there to worry about? He takes a sip from his own coffee and feels the warmth spreading from his toes upwards, pooling in his belly, and he smiles.

“You know,” Ianto says quietly, “when I was a child, Mam used to take me outside with a bowl and tell me to collect all the clean snow I could find.” He puts down his mug and breathes in deeply, his hands smoothing over the sheets on his knees. “Then we’d bring it inside and she’d pour milk into it, and call it snow cream.” The smile fades, and he looks back at Jack. “It’s my fondest memory of her.”

Jack puts his own mug down on the table beside his bed and reaches a hand out to Ianto’s chin, drawing him close for a kiss.

“Put your pants on,” he says. “Get bowls from the kitchen.” Ianto gives a queer sort of look.

“Jack?” Jack smiles.

“We’re making snow cream. So that I can have a fondest memory of you, as well.”


End file.
